The Healer Read Online Free PDF Page B

time.”
    He hesitated a second. He was obviously searching for words.
    â€œI don’t know what we could have that you—”
    â€œYou like to go shooting sometimes,” I said.
    He looked almost surprised. He glanced at Elina, who didn’t say anything, but nodded. Ahti leaned forward.
    â€œWhy not?” he said, getting up. “I don’t need both of the shotguns, and I only need one pistol. And I doubt there’s anyone who’d turn me in if I sold you a gun.”
    I followed him into the bedroom. Large, nearly full duffel bags stood in front of the open, ransacked closets. There were clothes on the bed, headboard, and two chairs, and piled on the floor in front of the bags. Ahti went around the bed, stopped in front of a freestanding dark wood cabinet, and opened the door with a key. In the cabinet were two shotguns, a small rifle, and three pistols.
    â€œTake your pick,” he said, pointing at one pistol and then the other. There was a touch of the salesman in the gesture, which seemed unnecessary under the circumstances. “A ninemillimeter Heckler and Koch USP or a Glock seventeen, also nine millimeters.”
    Then he pointed at a steel revolver above them, and he didn’t look the slightest bit like a salesman. He looked like a man who had made a decision.
    â€œThe Smith and Wesson is for me.”
    I took down the nearest pistol, the Heckler and Koch.
    â€œThat’s a nice piece. Made in Germany, back when they still made things in Germany.”
    The gun was surprisingly light.
    â€œSix hundred sixty-seven grams,” Ahti said, before I could ask. “Holds eighteen shots in the clip.”
    He took out a box from the lower shelf. It clinked as he picked it up.
    â€œYou can have these, too, of course. Fifty rounds.”
    I looked at the box and at the gun in my hand. They both seemed completely out of place in this ordinary bedroom. I had to act fast, before I changed my mind.
    â€œDo you have a backpack?” I asked.
    He found a small black backpack in one of the jumbled closets. Its ordinariness, its plain old gymbagness, contrasted shockingly with its intended contents.
    â€œNo extra charge. Least I can do.”
    I gave him the money. He put it in his pocket without counting it and without looking at me. I looked again at the pistol in my right hand and the box of cartridges in my left. Ahti saw my befuddlement.
    â€œI’ll show you,” he laughed, and took the gun from me.
    With quick, practiced movements he dropped open the clip, filled it from the box, and pushed it back into place. He seemed to be in his element.
    â€œReady,” he said. “This is the safety and this is the trigger. Don’t aim it at anyone you don’t intend to shoot. Or maybe that doesn’t matter anymore.”
    He tried to smile, but there was no energy in it. His smile congealed on his lips and gave his face a helpless look. He realized it himself.
    â€œThe coffee’s getting cold,” he said quickly. “Let’s go drink it.”
    I thought about how suddenly things had changed. How long ago was it that we had spent dinners together, drank wine, planned our futures? We were going to take trips, I was going to write books, Johanna would write better articles than ever, and Ahti was going to start his own law office and—of course, naturally—a family, with Elina.
    The change had crept into our lives gradually, but now it was all coming to an end suddenly, in one great crash.
    Elina sat in her chair, not touching her coffee. I sank into the sofa and tried to think of something appropriate to say. It wasn’t easy because I had only one thing to talk about. Ahti must have sensed it: “I hope you find Johanna,” he said.
    I realized that that was my only hope in the world. I understood it with a clarity that penetrated me like warmth or cold and made me remember everything good that I might lose. A lump rose in my